


The Boy on the Train

by spyblue31



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26495656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spyblue31/pseuds/spyblue31
Summary: Donghyuck left Jeno on the platform of the train.Now, a ghost that looks like Donghyuck stands before him.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Lee Jeno
Comments: 13
Kudos: 71





	The Boy on the Train

**Author's Note:**

  * For [painttheworldinpastels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/painttheworldinpastels/gifts).



> Maligayang Kaarawan, Justinne!
> 
> Dearest Justinne, happy birthday to you, my lovely! *cues Taylor Swift's 22*
> 
> Thank you for being the sweetest, kindest and most supportive person ever. I feel so fortunate to have met you. I hope you achieve all the things that you want. Wishing you good health, good fortune and all the happiness in the world! I'm mentally sending you fried mantou and bubble tea <3
> 
> I'm sorry I couldn't get this posted while it was still your birthday. I had to scrap my original idea and I came up with this one on the day, so it's rather rushed as I wrote this in around a few hours, but nonetheless, I hope you will enjoy it. 
> 
> Finally, this fic was written while listening to Jeong Sewoon's Your Favourite Song on loop, which more accurately describes the tone in 3:40 than all my words.

Ghosts exist because there is one standing before him right now.

Jeno gets on the 07:06 train. He strolls past a few people, nodding at them and receiving an acknowledgement in return before he gets to his usual seat. He places his tumbler of coffee and pastry bag on the table of the four-seater, plugs his ears with his headphones and boots up his laptop.

_Morning as usual._

As he checks the news, he reaches for his pastry, biting into his pain au chocolat. He dusts off the crumbs of the flaky pastry with a sip of café au lait. He finishes his breakfast by the time he’s done with the news. Then, he switches to his email and almost spills his coffee when he sees the notification from Outlook.

**September 15 th: fifth year anniversary with Hyuckie <3**

If he wasn’t awake before, he is now as he stares at the picture of him gazing adoringly at his ex-boyfriend who lies on his lap at the pier.

Instantly, he is transported back three years ago; the salty breeze thick in the air from the sea, Donghyuck a warm solid weight draped across Jeno’s legs, his eyes closed in relaxation as Jeno pets his hair. He couldn’t look away from Donghyuck as the sunset light caressed his sunshine boy with her warmth. Jeno placed a hand over his steadily beating heart. When Donghyuck opened his eyes, brown eyes softer than the comfort of a snug blanket, he smiled at Jeno like he was his entire world, “ _My heart is safe in your hands._ ”

Jeno slams the laptop screen shut, his heart pounding. He removes his glasses, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself.

That’s all in the past. This is the present. Donghyuck hasn’t been his boyfriend since he dropped Jeno off at the train station for Jeno’s move to the big city, halfway across the country. Donghyuck hadn’t said anything until they stood at the platform edge, Jeno’s luggage neatly locked away in the compartment for a one-way trip. Then Donghyuck grabbed the lapels of Jeno’s jacket, kissing him desperately like they’d never meet again, pouring in a waterfall of emotion that drowned Jeno and pulled away, ripping the life jacket from him.

Donghyuck’s eyes glittered like raindrops against the car lights as he said, “ _I’m sorry, Jeno. I thought I could, but I can’t. My heart can’t go where my body can’t. I love you, but I can’t do this._ ”

Donghyuck hugged him one last time—a grip so tight it was painful—and before Jeno could hold onto him, he slipped away like a thief in the night, leaving just a trace of his scent on Jeno’s jacket.

Woodenly, emptily, disbelievingly, Jeno stood all alone at the platform until the stationmaster blew his whistle, and he had to get onto the train. All by himself.

Because he was moving to the city by himself.

Because his boyfriend was not coming with him.

Because the love of his life had just left him.

Donghyuck was a selfish boy—Jeno thought, his brain just catching up with his heart. Not only had he stolen away with Jeno’s heart, he had also taken Jeno’s handkerchief from his breast pocket. Now Jeno had nothing to wipe the tears that dripped down the sides of his cheeks; not until a pudgy boy wearing a cat patterned bucket hat had shyly toddled up to him, offering him a tissue and a gap-toothed smile with a ‘Cheer up, Mr!’ that made him burst into tears.

As an architect, Jeno works long hours. He’s never been a good cook and being in the big city means that there’s never a restaurant open more than a block away, no matter the time.

Tonight—or this morning, to be more precise, considering it’s half past twelve—he’s at a cheap and cheerful Chinese restaurant which serves up big plates at all hours of the day and night, the kind that shows warmth not through attentive service but by the hearty food that _engulfs_ you in a hug.

Jeno’s a regular at the restaurant since it’s on his way home, so the owners recognise him from his frequent visits. He’s greeted by a gruff ‘The usual?’ before he’s ushered into a booth, a steaming pot of tea and utensils placed onto the table not even five seconds later.

There’s something liminal about being in a restaurant that’s been around for decades, looking at a décor that’s unchanged since its opening, its age exposed by the pictures on the wall yellowed by time. The clock ticks, days go by, the seasons change, and yet this restaurant has weathered it all, still serving the same menu of large delicious plates as if no time has passed.

Jeno pours himself a cup of tea—a watered down Jasmine. Not long after, a heaping plate of beef chow fun is placed in front of him. He picks up a generous mix of wide rice noodles and seared beef, the mix of chewy noodles with the crisp crunch of the bean sprouts and scallions creating a delicious contrast. The food is still vaguely steaming, clearing evidence of the wok hei which results in the unique umami flavour that makes this simple dish of stir-fried beef noodles with soy sauce so addictive.

He’s halfway through when his attention is caught by something that waiter is delivering to the table over. He stares, the food between his chopsticks dropping onto his plate when he recognises that fried exterior.

_Golden mantou_.

Jeno swallows harshly, the food tasting like black tar now, thick and overpowering.

Donghyuck’s best friend was Renjun, a boy from Northern China who had a taste for mantou—steamed or fried—as he had grown up eating them. Back in the early days of Donghyuck and Jeno’s budding relationship, when the extent of their intimacy were lingering gazes and sly grazes of their hands as they walked together, Donghyuck wanted to surprise Renjun by making him fried mantou for his birthday. Jeno had been roped into being his sous chef despite possessing little culinary ability. Even though he was probably going to be on dishwashing duty, Jeno went willingly, eager to spend any time with Donghyuck.

It had started out decently enough. They had watched a few cooking tutorials on YouTube and were following the recipe to the letter to make the dough, which was a messy but easy enough affair. Getting flour over all the surfaces was to be expected, but Jeno hadn’t expected to be coated in a layer of white from Donghyuck’s overenthusiastic kneading.

The difficult bit came with the deep frying to create that lovely, golden shell and silvery, soft inside that made golden mantou so mouth-wateringly delicious.

Considering Donghyuck’s confident demeanour throughout the entire cooking process, Jeno had expected that he would be a dab hand at it, dropping them in the hot oil with finesse. What he got instead was the real life equivalent of the meme of the man who _attempted_ to deep fry fries in his kitchen to disastrous consequence.

Donghyuck squeaked as he dropped the mantou into the hot oil with his arm outstretched, his body angled as far from the stove as he could get. After he dropped it with a scary splash that caused him to yelp, Donghyuck immediately ran behind Jeno’s back, telling him to keep an eye on it even though Jeno hadn’t actually had a golden mantou in real life and as such didn’t know what colour they were supposed to be.

But Jeno was a fool for his cute cowardly darling who so resembled a baby bear with his sweater paws from his oversized grey jumper, so he took up the mantle. After a few tense moments of staring at the bubbling yellow oil, he decided that it must be done. Without much forethought, he used a pair of wooden chopsticks to pick them up from the pot.

Somehow, he should have known that he would have gotten burnt.

The oil crackled and splattered against his bare forearms and Jeno reeled back, gasping at the unexpected burn. Donghyuck immediately came over with a spider skimmer, ladling up the rest of the mantou and dumping them on a plate to cool.

“Are you okay?” Donghyuck asked, pulling him to the kitchen sink and running cold water over Jeno’s burn. “You really shouldn’t be wearing those dumb muscle Tee’s in the kitchen.”

Petulantly, as cold water ran over the burn on his arm, Jeno replied, “I thought it would make clean-up easier if I wore less.” _And I wanted to impress you_ , he thought.

“Silly,” Donghyuck shook his head, tutting, but he had a smile on his lips. “Run it under cold water for at least a minute unless you want to get a blister.”

While Jeno did so, Donghyuck went to check on the food. He came back holding a plate of golden, round edged mantou with a small dish of condensed milk. After dipping it in, Donghyuck brought a mantou to Jeno’s lips to taste. Jeno took a bite, tasting the sweetness of the condensed milk before he broke the crunchy exterior to reveal the softness of the bao inside. It was delicious, and not just because he was being fed by the hand of the boy he fancied.

“How is it?” Donghyuck asked, his eyes expectant.

“It’s great. It tastes good; I’m sure Renjun will like it.”

Donghyuck giggled, his eyes bright, “I know he will, your reaction tells me enough. I meant your arm.”

“Oh,” until that moment, Jeno had clean forgotten about his burn, to be honest. He took his arm out of the water, patting it dry, and Donghyuck gently pulled it towards him to inspect.

Jeno held his breath, his arm acutely tingling where Donghyuck was touching him, his skin more sensitive after being in the cold water for so long. Donghyuck’s fingertips faintly skimmed over the little reddened patch of skin. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, glancing up at him.

His mind was a jumbled mess of static noise. “I, er, yeah.”

“So you don’t need a kiss better?” Donghyuck teased, his eyes twinkling like they held all the stars in the sky.

“No!” Jeno replied hastily, his cheeks flushing when Donghyuck giggled again.

Before Jeno could become too embarrassed, Donghyuck leaned down to press a kiss. He swore his heart stopped at the smooth, warm feeling of Donghyuck’s mouth.

When Donghyuck straightened up, his face was tinged slightly pink too, but he still took the opportunity to tease him when he saw Jeno’s expression. “What? A kiss on a hurt makes it heal.”

Jeno _knew_ Donghyuck was deliberately misconstruing his words and couldn’t help but whine. They had been dancing around each other for a while and it felt mean to dangle that in Jeno’s face and then snatch it away.

“No, not the place?” Donghyuck smiled, leaning close to Jeno, backing him up to the kitchen sink, the mantou forgotten. “Where else then? You’ve got to tell me so I know where to make amends.”

Till this date, Jeno didn’t know what possessed him to lift Donghyuck’s hand and place it over his mouth.

“Right here,” he whispered, staring into Donghyuck’s eyes, his heart pounding. “Kiss me right here.”

Donghyuck’s eyes fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird before he leant in to kiss Jeno. His lips were as warm and sweet as Jeno thought, he tasted golden and light and wonderful as the mantou they had just eaten, and Jeno thought the burn was a small price to pay for the pleasure of kissing Donghyuck.

Perhaps Jeno developed a taste for golden mantou because of Donghyuck.

Jeno is drawn out of his daydream when there’s a clink of flatware against the table.

A plate of golden mantou.

He furrows his brow, about to explain that he didn’t order this, when the owner shakes his head, saying gruffly, “Free service.”

Jeno thanks him, taken aback and yet grateful, and the owner leaves with a rough pat of Jeno’s shoulders.

Jeno picks up a mantou, sees how it’s fried to crisp, golden perfection, rounded with smooth edges on the sides, and he dips it into the thick, syrupy condensed milk.

Heat explodes in his mouth, scorching his tongue and burning the roof of his mouth. Jeno coughs, spitting the morsel of food back out as his eyes water.

The golden mantou doesn’t taste so delicious now.

Days feel both long and short. When he’s working, the hours stretch by, but it seems like in a blink of an eye, it’s been more than nine months since he moved to the city.

Between the long hours at work and his general low mood on first arrival, Jeno’s not really had the opportunity to play tourist in the city. His itinerary had been a list of things to do for _two_. Going now as one felt like rubbing salt in his wound and Jeno rather not walk around a museum he had chosen specifically for _his_ taste. But this weekend, Jeno forces himself to stop his customary habit of moping in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering what _he’s_ up to.

Jeno has to move on. It’s been too long for him to be acceptably hung up on his ex.

After a nice leisurely brunch, he visits a cycling exhibition, geeking out over the bikes and chatting to a few other cycling enthusiasts about the best bike paths in the city. The afternoon is pleasant with the winter sun gently warming his face, so he decides to explore on foot instead of taking the subway. That’s when he comes across an upscale department store decked out in beautiful Christmas lights. As he has nothing better to do, he decides to go in and explore, if not just to look at the decorations inside.

As he walks into the department store, admiring the strings of fairy lights and the garlands of holly, he somehow ends up in the perfume section. He’s about to leave, having no interest in purchasing overpriced water when his eyes land on a familiar bottle.

His brain shuts down and his heart takes over executive function.

Before he knows it, he’s spraying the tester perfume over his wrists and inhaling deeply. The scent of dark amber and black orchard floods his nose and a wave of memories, of _nostalgia_ hits him all at once.

When Jeno closes his eyes, Donghyuck is embracing him and his head tucked in the crook of Donghyuck’s neck, the stiff wool of his coat scratching against Jeno’s cheek, but it doesn’t matter, because Donghyuck is _here_. Donghyuck is here with his warm hands and husky timbred voice, Donghyuck is here with his smoky floral scent that warms him up from the inside, Donghyuck is here—living in his memories.

A voice penetrates through the haze of his memories and Jeno is drawn out of his daydream before he’s plunged into the next.

_You don’t need to smile anymore, your eyes and lips they say it all, so how can I hold onto you? Your pillow that was always wet. Finally, it’ll be dry._

_We went through so much. We fought so much. We made up so many times. Now we don’t have to stay up at night worrying anymore. Now have a peaceful, good night._

_I’ll probably get really tired since I don’t want to think about you. I won’t be drinking coffee, which you introduced me to. You always waited for me now you don’t have to anymore._

_We went through so much. We fought so much. We made up so many times. Now we don’t have to stay up at night worrying anymore. Now have a peaceful, good night._

_Anyone can see we tried our best. No one can blame us, we just weren’t meant to be. That’s all we need to know, that’s all we need to believe._

_We went through so much. We fought so much. We made up so many times. Now we don’t have to stay up at night worrying anymore. Now have a peaceful, good night._

_We were so happy. We were crazy in love. Now we don’t have to have those late night, painful worries. Now really, goodbye._

Jeong Sewoon croons softly with his comforting voice and Jeno—Jeno starts crying in public, in broad daylight. He should have known it wouldn’t last. That a confession which had a soundtrack to a breakup song like _Good Night_ could not have led to a happily ever after, but Jeno had been so happy with Donghyuck.

They’d been so happy together. It was such a beautiful, perfect, picturesque date.

He could see it vividly, for he lived through that one magical evening enough in his dreams that it stained his waking moments.

They were skating on a frozen lake back in their hometown. It was late, so they were the only people left. The bright streetlight shone silver against the white of the ice. They were skating slowly, hand in hand. Donghyuck thought Jeno was a poorer skater than he was; Jeno happily let him have that impression just for the excuse to hold his hand and have him close.

Donghyuck had taken several years of figure skating lessons as a child and he was flaunting some of his moves to Jeno. After a successful demonstration of a double lutz and double flip, he attempted a double axel, only he had overestimated his muscle memory and fell.

Jeno immediately skated over, worriedly checking if Donghyuck was alright, and berated him, “You are _not_ Yuzuru Hanyu. You could have gotten seriously injured doing jumps like that without proper training! Are you hurt? Is your ankle alright? You didn’t fall on your knee, did you?”

Donghyuck gaped at him, butt on the ice, his legs spread out, and Jeno crouches down to press his hands over his ankles, “Do you feel hurt anywhere? Any discomfort or injury, maybe we should—”

“You just skated over faster than a speed skater,” Donghyuck stared at Jeno, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Ten minutes ago, you were wobbling like Bambi on her first legs! How is it…”

Jeno deliberately avoided Donghyuck’s probing eyes, hoping that his beanie and scarf covered enough of him that Donghyuck couldn’t see the embarrassed flush over his face.

“Jeno Lee…” he could hear the laugh in Donghyuck’s voice. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jeno grumbled, straightening up and dusting himself off since Donghyuck must be okay if he’s teasing Jeno like his regular scheduled programming.

“Aw baby don’t be like that,” Donghyuck cooed, standing up to wrap his arms around Jeno’s waist from behind. “I think it’s cute that you pretended to be bad at skating just so I would hold your hand. You know we’re dating right? You don’t need an excuse to hold my hand.”

Jeno flushed brightly. He knew they were dating, of course, but the fond and endeared tone that Donghyuck directed towards him still made him melt. “Whatever,” he turned around to face Donghyuck, who was grinning widely, looking more luminous than the moon, more incandescent than the stars, and brighter than the sun. He squeezed Donghyuck’s gloved hand, unable to suppress his smile when Donghyuck squeezed it back.

“You’re too cute, Jeno Lee,” Donghyuck said, tugging him closer so they were as close as their bulky coats allowed. “I’ve never met anyone who likes to hold hands as much as you.”

“I just think- you know how we do everything with our hands, how they’re our aides to carry out important functions,” Jeno held Donghyuck’s hands, looking into the face of the man he loved. “Like eating or writing or holding stuff, hands are our intermediary from our brain to conduct tasks. But holding hands doesn’t do anything, you know? We’re just enjoying the feeling of holding someone else’s hands, and we’re not doing the other things we have to do. We use our hands to achieve our biggest goals, so isn’t it fitting that we use our hands to hold our most important people too?”

Donghyuck stared at him, his gaze roaming all over Jeno’s face. “Is that why you want to hold my hand, because you think I’m your most important person?”

Jeno stared at their skating boots, how their feet were in between each other, entangled like their lives were.

“Don’t you know already?” he whispered, his face flaming in colour.

Donghyuck released one hand to use to tilt up Jeno’s face so he would look at him. Donghyuck’s eyes were full of adoration, as if Jeno was the one who hung up all the stars in the night sky—Jeno would, if Donghyuck asked. He would try, he would do his best, he would give his all to make Donghyuck happy.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Donghyuck asked, his voice soft, wondrous almost. “Jeno, I…”

“Jeno, there’s only you,” Donghyuck swallowed, blinking at him. “ _I love you_.”

Jeno had a stirring that Donghyuck was going to confess but it was indescribable to actually _hear_ him say it out loud. His feelings rushed upwards like a waterfall, and Jeno couldn’t suppress himself.

“I love you too,” Jeno clutched Donghyuck’s hands tightly. “I love you so much. You are the one for me.”

The moment was perfect. Jeno didn’t feel the chill in the air, the discomfort of his feet in the skating boots, instead he felt so warm with Donghyuck, his heart about to burst from love. The light shone on the ice, casting a wondrous glow around them, and the speakers played Jeong Sewoon’s song just as Donghyuck kissed him. It felt like they were in a drama, their happy ending at the end of the season, their fade to black moment.

But life isn’t a drama. After a dramatic love confession, people have to return to real life. Maybe he should have taken the lyrics as premonition; maybe he should have analysed why this was Donghyuck’s favourite song.

Jeno didn’t. And that was his first mistake.

Jeno lived in blissful ignorance. He didn’t see the warning signs. Every relationship had their ups and downs, their challenges and fights. They fought and made up, but Jeno always thought him and Donghyuck—they were _forever_ , no matter where they were.

Donghyuck didn’t feel the same, evidently.

It had been Donghyuck who encouraged him to apply for jobs in the big city, even when Jeno didn’t think he was good enough. “ _Try,_ ” Donghyuck had said, forwarding him a job advertisement of a firm in the city, “ _you never know until you try_.”

And Jeno did.

Maybe Donghyuck didn’t think that Jeno would get it. Didn’t think that he’d passed the first round of online application, the video interview, and then he was traveling into the big city for that final interview.

No, that was mean. Jeno knew Donghyuck believed in him and his abilities.

What Donghyuck didn’t believe in was _them_.

In the time before Jeno left for the city, there were red flags that he should have noticed, but he didn’t want to see them. How difficult was a long-distance relationship anyways? Many people had them just fine.

Maybe people thought long distance relationships were a viable option because the ultimate goal of reuniting, of bridging the distance, living in the same place and time, that fairy tale happily ever after was achievable.

Or maybe people began their relationship at long-distance, so they came in with the expectation that this was it. They didn’t know the feeling of their lover’s touch, the grip of their hand, the scent of their hair as you were enveloped in a hug, the curve of their waist as you leant against them, the taste of their mouth as you kissed, and the way their body moved against yours when joined together in the most intimate sense. Can you miss what you’ve never had, what you never thought was possible?

But Jeno isn’t coming back to the small town they grew up in and Donghyuck has roots that hold him there.

How do you go from constant contact to living the rest of your days knowing you’ll be apart?

_Donghyuck was always a touchy person._

Jeno should have known when Donghyuck started getting withdrawn, becoming moody for no apparent reason, picking fights that Jeno had no hope of winning, and then calling him up late at night whilst drunk, asking if Jeno loved him or not.

Jeno should have known that he would not be given his dream job and the love of his life without sacrifice.

Jeno should have known that no matter how much he pretended not to, that even if he deleted his number, threw away his stuff, and worked himself to the bone as a distraction—he still longed for Donghyuck.

Dates, pictures, food, scents, songs—mundane and insignificant things brought him back to Donghyuck, back to the days when his life was full, and maybe… maybe Jeno didn’t want to let go too.

Donghyuck had Jeno’s heart—would _always_ have his heart.

Jeno gets on the 07:06 train. He strolls past a few people, nodding at them and receiving an acknowledgement in return before he gets to his usual seat. He places his tumbler of coffee and pastry bag on the table of the four-seater, plugs his ears with his headphones and boots up his laptop.

_Morning as usual_.

There’s a thump as a bag is placed on the seat opposite him. Jeno looks up, surprised at the disruption of his commute routine, and feels his heart stop.

Ghosts exist because there is one standing before him right now.

“Is the seat taken?”

The morning light streams through the window of the train, illuminating Donghyuck in a heavenly glow. He looks an angel, Jeno thinks faintly, wondering if he's still dreaming. Because he's dreamt of this many times, and in his dreams, he says:

“No… it’s empty.”

Donghyuck’s smile grows softer, more hesitant. Jeno's eyes move to take him in, the dark circles beneath his eyes, how his hair is longer, how he's visibly thinner even through the bulk of his coat. In Jeno's dreams, Donghyuck looks the same as he did when he left him.

Jeno is beginning to think that this is real. That Donghyuck is real.

“Would you have me?”

The love of his life, the one he hasn't seen or heard or spoken to in a year, has somehow appeared in Jeno's part of the world, asking for another chance.

Jeno meets eyes with Donghyuck. There is only one answer.

“I would love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> I realise belatedly that a post breakup au might be a bit depressing for a birthday gift, but it's a happy ending right? Haha *everyone looks politely sceptical as I beam*
> 
> My original idea came to close to one of the fics in the nhff (it would actually be funny if that fic was yours lol) and I wanted to write a fic to a Sewoon song. I probably should have asked you for recs earlier but oh well...
> 
> The second song is Jeong Sewoon's Good Night. What a lovely breakup song that is. I'm mentally adding it to my repertoire.
> 
> Finally, I hope you enjoyed it! Kudos and comments are much appreciated. As always, I wish you all the best xx
> 
> Twitter: @spyblue31


End file.
